


Sip of wine and a loaded gun

by qwertysweetea



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, BDSM, Bottom Will Graham, Gun Kink, Jealous Hannibal, Kink, Lots of Touching, M/M, Murder Husbands, No actual sex, Power Dynamics, Power Play, S&M, Top Hannibal Lecter, Touch-Starved, just pure kink...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 20:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13442616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: “They say funerals often make people crave physical intimacy.” Hannibal contributed.“They make people want to have sex.” Will replied bluntly. “It’s one in the eye to death.”Will comes away from Freddie's funeral utterly desperate for Hannibal's validation and appreciation.[Re-written 17/02]





	Sip of wine and a loaded gun

**Author's Note:**

> In the 'Red Dragon' novel, it's mentioned that funerals often make people want to have sex and Will is one of those people. Canon. Can't even blame Bryan Fuller for that one.

“How did it feel, being there to see Ms. Lounds take her final resting place?”

There was no comfortable way to say what he felt during or after Freddie’s funeral, especially not to the man he sat opposite. Of all the boundaries they had crossed in recent weeks, this was one he didn’t feel he could push.

It had come up in conversation, once or twice in a context which wasn’t all-in-all surprising to Will. Hannibal had a way of speaking that made it feel like less of an invasion of privacy and a necessary part of therapy. Always professional and never too invasive.

Will ran his hands over his face, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. This was different than before. They were different now. Something was brewing and it was as obvious as it was that they were leaving it unspoken. Even then he wasn’t in the frame of mind to pretend it wasn't a consideration when he asked Dr. Lecter to move his appointment.

“They say funerals often make people crave physical intimacy.” Hannibal contributed.

Of course he knew, Will cursed to himself. Master of human psychology and biology, of course he knew how funerals made people feel.

“They make people want to have sex.” Will replied bluntly. “It’s one in the eye to death.”

“Is that your reasoning for it, Will?”

“Are you insinuating that I am _excited_ by the circumstances of Ms. Lounds’ death?” He almost sounded offended as he said it. Almost. Whatever would have made it so was covered up with a dry, but no less humoured, huff of laughter.

“I’d be disappointed if you were.” Hannibal replied, face still irritatingly neutral. Will couldn’t stand it, not while the skin on his face was prickling with a fresh heat, mingling with the lingering blush from earlier in the day. “It would mean you were seeing your work through blinkered eyes.”

“I’m not following you, Dr. Lecter.”

“The longer this goes on, the longer you have to hide your true self. You want people to see what this had made of you, an acknowledgment – you can show them but you cannot take credit.

“Sex gives you a very common and unsuspicious platform to show that you are changed by this experience. It’s not sex that you want, it’s to be seen.”

“Anyone else would have taken the hint.” Will huffed out.

“Do you want me to take the hint Will?” He replied, closing the distance with two, long stride, hand clasping softly onto the other's throat and trailing a path up to his cheek. “How do you imagine this will go? That you will be able to keep your eyes closed and pretend I’m not who I am. I can see your mind shrinking away from me, ashamed that your body is betraying you, maybe? Do you think it’ll get any easier the further we go? That there is a threshold you need to cross where you won’t care that I am a man?”

“I wouldn’t crave it if I didn’t want it.”

Hannibal let go of him abruptly, almost pulling Will over in the process. He hadn’t realised he’d been leaning into his hand until it was gone. He hadn’t realised how warm, and smooth, and soothing it had been or how much he’d needed the touch.

“I should have called Alana back.” He bit out once Hannibal had taken up his seat.

He took another mouthful of wine, looking sincerely at the older man over the top of his glass. When he swallowed his mouthful it was deliberate, a show.

“I think she hates me just about enough to have treated me roughly. What do you call that in the Psychiatric field?”

The other gave no sign that it fazed him. If it did at all then he wasn’t going to give Will the satisfaction of showing him. Instead, he gave him a slightly amused smile. “One wonders why you didn’t save yourself the trouble of going for the easier option first.”

“Who says I didn’t?” He replied, sass dripping off his tongue.

“Are you done teasing me for tonight, Will?”

“You must be awfully certain of my sexual preferences, Doctor, to question my own judgement of them. Or maybe you're just testing your own restraint.”

The smile dropped from Hannibal’s lips, and he took a deliberate and slow sip of his drink. "I'm right to question them, Will, and I am right to question you. If what you want was in any way sexual, it would not be directed at me. You want a physical manifestation of my pride in you. You want me to map out on your body the ecstasy I feel when I look at the art you produce. That is not the same thing as wanting to make love to me."

"Yeah, I get it. I'm just the inexperienced pupil only just started on his journey to becoming, looking for daddy to show me validation after every macaroni picture I bring home for him."

He scanned Will’s face for any signs of regret. Ever unpredictable, Hannibal didn’t see what he expected to. Where he anticipated alcohol-influenced shame and a twinge of discomfort, he saw that Will was certain of his uncertainty.

Will walked forward, although Hannibal was aggrieved to think a word like ‘walked’ would be used to describe it while words like ‘sauntered’ existed. It would have been all-in-all more accurate. Will moved like the wine liberated him and it was even sweeter a sight to drink in knowing that he was as in control of his actions as he always was. "Of course, you forgot the other alternative."

Drunk, yes but not from the alcohol. The alcohol had just washed away whatever doubt he had been clinging on to.

"Did I now?"

“Yeah. Funerals make us want to have sex because it’s one in the eye to death, but we are that death.” It was more of a musing than a question. He placed his wine glass down on the table beside the other, and with a little smile twitching at the corner of his lips his eyes flicked and lingered on the others hands. “Sex with anyone would be a disrespect to my work. Like putting the macaroni picture straight into the fire instead of showing me the appreciation I _deserve_.

"What would it be between us, Doctor? Validation? Appreciation?”

“It would be a privilege.” Hannibal answered, the words slipping from his lips without him seeming to have a grasp on them. He, always so deliberate and ordered, gave the first appearance of it slipping away from him.

Will closed the last of the distance, dropping to his knees in front of the other. With eyes focused hard on Hannibal’s, he moistened his lips again. "Show me your appreciation and I'll show you mine."

With a steady hand, he took Hannibal’s own into his and placed it back where it had been earlier, palm flush against the column of his neck. He placed his hand tight over the top of the other man’s but still Hannibal kept his grip gentle. Hannibal’s fingers flexed slightly and his thumb rubbed but did not tighten.

Hannibal’s hand followed its previous path up, over his jaw to his cheek. It lingered but did not stop, curving its way past his ear and into his hair.

Will curved his head into it, his mess of curls blocking his face from view. It was too charged for there to be any relief. Whatever was brewing in his chest, this was contributing to it instead of releasing it but God did he want it.

Hannibal ceased the moment to dance his fingers through his hair, showing the same care he did everything else before tightening. It wasn’t enough to hurt but enough to guide, and pulled Will up to eye-level. And what he could have missed out on if he hadn’t.

Jaw slack and dreamy smile, tongue occasionally flicking out amongst the soft pants to wet his dry lips. Hannibal imagined that this is what Will would look like after killing. Peaceful, blissful and utterly complacent in his exhaustion. The thought was enough to make him groan, tender, somewhere in the base of his throat, more of a vibration travelling through his chest and into Will’s as he pulled him against him completely.

Will stumbled and hands grabbed the top of the older man’s arms, catching his balance. His hands wavered at the thought of fisting them into the fabric of the others suit. Instead, his palms remained open and flat, sliding onto the arms of the chair by their sides.

Hannibal’s cheek pressed into his and his mouth opened as though to kiss him there.

“Wonderful boy, it would be a privilege to show you how much I appreciate you're artwork. I would do so in any way you asked for me.” He sighed; eyes closed, revealing in the gentle hitch of Will’s breath, he had to swallow thick and summoning the last of his self-control he pushed his head back from the others cheek. “...but this? This is too close to consumption.”

“You’re afraid…” Will started, voice trembling. He took a breath, also trembling but no less deep. “…if you have a taste it won’t be enough.”

“A sip of wine when you can’t afford the bottle.” Hannibal elaborated. “I know that a simple taste of you would never be enough.”

Will’s hand was on Hannibal’s free one, pressing cold metal into it. He guided it up, pressing the tip of his pistol under his own chin. “Do it then.”

Will felt the sigh swell in the other's chest before he heard it. It sounded like it felt, heavy but still so whimsical, hopeful, completely off-guard. “As usual Will, I have never and will never, be able to entirely predict you.”

Hannibal took the gun out of his grip but the pressure under his chin didn’t shift. Within seconds the pressure was amplified.

A click as the gun was cocked. The arm Will hadn’t realised held him tight snaked up his back. Hannibal’s hand fisted into the curls at the back of his head.

With a harsh yank his head was back and neck exposed. Cheeks glaring red and heat radiating off them that matched nothing he'd felt before. Another whimper escaped his mouth, this one far more wanting and absolutely pathetic to his own ears.

“You enjoy testing my resolve, don’t you Will? Offering yourself to me in every way you can.”

Another whimper.

“Do you feel so secure that you think I won’t kill you for the simple pleasure of holding your wonderful mind in my hands?”

“I would let you.” Will tried to clear his throat to speak. He squeezed his eyes shut as though it would help clear his raging mind. "S-Show me your appreciation, I'll... I'll show you mine."

Hannibal pulled the trigger.

Click.

“Fuck…” Will panted out with his breath, half desperation and the other half relief. “Fuck.” Whatever was curling in his chest, weighing heavy on his ribs and restricting his breathing, suddenly released. The air flooded his lungs and God, it was enough to get high off of.

Hannibal’s hand slowly loosed and untangled itself from his hair, soothing down the strands as he went. As his hand moved away, Will crumpled again him.

He let him stay there.

**Author's Note:**

> Will didn't notice Hannibal drop the cartridge out of the gun and check the barrel before he shot it. He genuinely thought it was loaded.
> 
> [Re-written 17/02] I wasn't completely happy with this one so I've given it a go over.


End file.
